


Lonely Blood

by sammy_winchesty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic John Winchester, Angry Dean Winchester, Angry John Winchester, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Bad Parent John Winchester, Blood and Torture, Comfort/Angst, Dean Winchester Angst, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Don't Like Don't Read, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Flirty Dean Winchester, Guilt, Guilty Dean Winchester, Guilty Sam Winchester, Heavy Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Made Myself Cry, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Just A Slow Writer, I'm Sorry, I'm Sorry Dean Winchester, I'm Sorry Sam Winchester, I'm gonna run away, If you only read one work by me, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kidnapped Sam Winchester, Kidnapping, Lols, Must Read, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Abandoned, Not Happy, PUNCH ME, Pain, Parent John Winchester, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Read, References to Drugs, Sad, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad John, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Has Nightmares, Sam Winchester Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sam Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Sick Sam Winchester, Sorry Not Sorry, Supernatural Elements, Tags Are Hard, Teen Angst, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, To Read, Torture, Tortured Sam Winchester, Underage Drug Use, Worth Re-Reading, Young Sam Winchester, before you can, byeeee, dont hate me, give me feeback, i swear i'm still writing, please, read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-11-08 01:40:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17972048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammy_winchesty/pseuds/sammy_winchesty
Summary: Sam is kidnapped and taken away, leaving John and Dean in a pool of anger, guilt and worry, scrambling around and turning over every pebble in the world trying to find Sammy.Sam, on the other hand, is desperately trying to escape, can John and Dean find him before its too late? Will Sam make it? Will Dean survive the guilt on his chest? And most importantly will I stop asking rhetorical questions?This is not abandoned, I swear.. I'm just a really slow writer :)





	1. Undecided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> This is the first fanfic I have ever written so I'm pretty excited about this. If you like it leave a kudos and all feedback and comments are greatly appreciated (comments are what writers live for).  
> And of course, I don't own supernatural, not yet anyway. So the characters belong to their rightful owners, and no money is being made off this.  
> Also Sam is 15 and Dean is 19!

Sam sits at the table staring at his bowl of Lucky Charms. He had been at his new school for a week and by what John had told Dean over the phone, they would only be there for another week or so before he wrapped up the hunt.

“Come on Sammy, lighten up” Dean ruffled Sam's hair, he knew Sam hated it when Dean did that, messing up his perfectly parted hair. Sam pushed Dean's hand away with his usual annoyed look. Dean chuckled and picked up his bag “whatever, come on you're gonna be late.” Sam stood up and flung his backpack over his shoulder, leaving his full bowl of cereal on the table.

Dean tapped his hands on the steering wheel to the beat of _You Shook Me All Night Long_ , “Sammy, I might be a little late for pick up today, got a date with a hot chick” Dean grinned at Sam and winked. Sam rolled his eyes, he hated how Dean didn't go to school anymore. John had said Dean didn't even have to finish the school year because he was going to be a hunter anyway (he practically already was) and you don't necessarily need a college degree for that. But besides that, it meant Sam had no one at school, he didn't really have enough time or motivation to make friends every time he moved. He just had to get through the next few years with good marks and then he could settle, finally leave this “hunting life” behind.

\------------

When school had finally finished, Sam perched himself on a park bench just outside of the school, waiting for Dean to pick him up. Classes seemed to drag on especially long today, he just stared at the clock, counting down the seconds until the school bell rang and then he was practically running out of the door. He didn't know why he wanted to get back to the motel so desperately, there was nothing waiting for him, besides free cable and maybe a few extra bucks to buy something from the vending machine with, but that was it.

Sam was the first one out of school, he sat on the bench as swarms of kids flooded out of the gates, until there were no students left. Sam watched everyone leave until he was the only kid around, hell, the only person around. _What was taking Dean so long, surely he would be done with his... Lady friend, by now._

It had been 25 minutes since school had finished and Dean was still nowhere in sight. _Maybe Dean had forgotten about me or decided that I just wasn't worth the struggle anymore. Perhaps he had packed up to go find Dad and help him with the hunt._ Sam shook his head, trying to block out the negative thoughts, he didn't even notice the van pull up a few meters away from him.

Two large men got out of the van and made their way towards Sam, he quickly realized what was going on and stood up. He pulled out his pocket knife, John had told him to keep it on him at all times sounded a bit unnecessary at the time and if anyone at school ever saw it he would have a lot of explaining to do, but he was glad he had it on him at the moment. He held the blade out in front of him, his breathing sped up a little bit but he had to stay calm you can't fight if you're crying like a little girl, Dean always told him that. One of the men stepped towards Sam and he stepped back slightly, causing him to go off balance for a split second. The man took this opportunity and hit the blade away from Sam's hands, causing it to land a few meters away. He lunged at Sam and pulled him into a headlock, sheer panic was running through Sam's veins and he elbowed back into the side of the man's stomach, he grunted slightly but didn't let go of Sam. The second man walked around in front of Sam as if examining him, Sam tossed out his legs and the man fell back from the contact to his knees. The man clenched his jaw and regained his balance, walking back over to Sam and punching him in the stomach. Sam coughed and his breath hitched, he squirmed trying to get free from the man's grip.

_How could I let this happen, how could I be so unaware of what was going on around me and get into this situation?_

The second man pulled out a large needle from his pocket and chuckled at Sam's squirming. All of Sam's training and composure fell apart, he couldn't remember anything John or Dean had told him, panic overwhelmed him and he tried to pull away from the hold. The man violently stabbed the needle into Sam's neck, the contents dispersing through his veins, Sam felt the effect immediately. He thought he screamed but he wasn't sure, maybe he meant to scream but couldn't because of the pressure around his throat. He tossed his legs out again but it didn't make any contact, they were already growing weak and Sam couldn't find the strength to kick them any harder. He felt his body slump back into the chest of the man that was holding him and his vision went fuzzy. Sam's breaths were shallow, he mumbled “no, De-dean..” Before darkness overwhelmed him and he slipped into unconsciousness.

\------------

Dean was lying on a skeezy motel bed with this chick, he glanced over at the alarm clock next to the bed and abruptly sat up “Crap, I gotta pick Sammy up” he jumped out of the bed and started to get dressed. The girl, Lisa, sat up “Don’t go... Stay with me forever” she chuckled and made a pouty face. Dean raised his eyebrows and turned to walk out the door “I'll call you later Lis.”

Dean slammed on the breaks in front of the school, he was pretty sure he had broken at least 10 driving laws and yet, he was still late. If John knew that Dean had been over half an hour late to pick Sam up he would kick his ass for sure. He looked around at the park bench and at the gates of the school, Sam wasn't there.

Dean got out of the car with a grunt, he couldn't help but feel annoyed that Sam wasn't there. He checked around the carpark and then in the school bus pick up zone, Sam wasn't anywhere, the school gates had been locked by now, all the students and teachers had left. Dean felt panic slowly rising in his stomach and he forced it back down. He distracted himself thinking about where Sam could be, maybe that little geek was at the library or maybe he had finally grown a set of balls and gone home with a girl. It wasn't likely though, Sam always just waited out the front, he never made any friends so there was no one he could go off with. Hopefully, Sam had just walked home to spite him, now that is something Sam would do.

Dean hopped back in the Impala and sped ‘home’, without putting music on, without slowing down to check out any girls. He sped back to the motel and practically ran inside, Sam would probably laugh at him for being so stressed and looking so panicked so he did his best to compose himself as he opened the door. Dean rushed into the room and looked around, the lights were off and Sams bowl of Lucky Charms was still displayed on the table, there was no way Sam would leave it there if he got home, it would have annoyed him too much. Dean cleared his negative thoughts away and walked around the corner, the 2 twin beds, empty lying messily made next to each other. Sam wasn’t in the motel, he wasn't at school. Dean hadn't realised but he was basically hyperventilating, I mean this wasn't the first time Sam had run away, he ran away all the time but it never got easier. Dean sat down trying to collect his thoughts, trying to figure out what to do next, call the police? No, too many questions.. Call Dad? He would be so pissed, probably beat Sam and him for the inconvenience. How could he be this stupid and leave Sam alone for that long, he should of just let Sam stay home like he wanted to. Dean clenched his jaw and pulled out his gun, there was no immediate danger but he had this feeling in the pit of his stomach, maybe Sam didn't run away, what if he was taken, what if he was already dead?


	2. A Concrete Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up in agony, and darkness, unsure where he is and what will happen to him. Dean, on the other hand, struggles with his guilt and plots what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you all so much for the reviews on my last chapter! The messages of encouragement were overwhelming!  
> I don't have a posting schedule, I write when I feel motivated and a response from the readers definitely makes me write faster, as I said before, comments and likes are what writers live for :)  
> Well anyways, I hope y'all like this chapter and please, please message me if you have any ideas for future chapters!  
> Also a massive thanks to @silly_slimy_slap for your continued support, ideas and editing (especially with the tense) the story!!

Dean is pacing the length of the small, dirty motel room, still grasping onto his gun. He can’t delay it anymore, he has to call John. He knows John will blame him for Sam’s disappearance but Dean knows it is his fault anyway, not being there for his baby brother.

Dean crumples onto the bed with a sigh, pulling out his phone, he stares at John’s number for what seems like forever before he works up the confidence to call him.  
“Dean, what do you want?” John’s voice is harsh and demanding, Dean feels the urge to hang up straight away, but he can’t, this is for Sammy.  
He exhales sharply, trying not to sound panicked “Dad... Sammy’s missing..”  
John sighs through the phone. “What the hell did you do this time Dean? Where has he run off to?”  
Dean’s voice is shaky as he holds back tears, even though John can't see him he would be able to sense him crying through the phone, he can’t risk being this vulnerable and weak at a time like now.  
“I-i don't know.. I went to pick him up from school and he wasn't there, and he wasn’t home and I - I just don't know where he could be... Dad, I have a bad feeling about this.”  
Dean's hand shakes against the phone, his heartbeat rises in his chest and makes it difficult to hear John.

John lowers his tone, noticing the panic and fear in his older son’s voice “Okay Dean, I’ll leave as soon as I can.. I should be home by tomorrow night..”  
Dean nods but realises quickly that John can't see him nod through the phone, and he manages to speak, his voice hoarse and shaky “Yes sir.”  
“Okay, he’ll be fine... I’ve got to go” and just like that he hangs up, leaving Dean holding the phone up to his ear. John doesn't sound concerned or worried at all, it is as if he just shrugs it off and doesn’t even care.

_How could he do that? How could Dad not care at all about where Sammy was? He could be dead in a ditch somewhere and he doesn't even care... Oh god, Sammy could be dead in a ditch somewhere._

Deans thoughts are spinning around in his head, how could he think like that, he has to stay positive. The thoughts keep racing through his mind despite the feeble attempts of pushing them away.

_This is all your fault, you weren’t there for Sammy and now he’s gone, all your fault, how could you do this? Be such a bad, big brother, Sam’s probably dead and it’s all your fault._

He clenches his jaw as a sickening bile rises in his throat, he runs to the bathroom dropping his phone in the process. He heaves into the toilet, his hands gripping the porcelain bowl so tight he thinks it might break. He stays kneeling over the toilet long after he’s finished, his hands cold against the harsh tiles.

\------------

Sam’s head is throbbing, he tries to open his eyes but it feels like they are stapled closed. He is so exhausted but musters up the energy to finally open his eyes, he looks around the room, his memories are slowly returning. It is pitch black but from what he can make out he is in a small cell or cupboard maybe. He is chained up, sitting against a concrete wall, the cuffs digging into his wrists and he can feel blood trickle down his fingers from the unforgiving, tight chains. He stretches his legs out, only to be met by another wall, only half a metre away.

Sam has never considered himself to be claustrophobic but when you're trapped in a half meter by half meter concrete box, well that's never comforting. Sam was panicking too much to realise how much pain he was in, his head feels like it is on fire, there is a stinging pain that echos out from his neck, his stomach and back aches.

He can’t see but maybe that is a good thing, not being able to see all the bruises and cuts littering his body. His throat is dry and parched, he uses what saliva he has left to lick his cracking lips only to meet a searing pain that runs through his face, he quickly retreats his tongue and realises his lip is bleeding and dripping down his chin.

Sam breathes in deeply, trying to bury the pain that is radiating through his whole body, he leans forward, determined to find a way out but he is stopped by a harsh tightness to his throat, he jumps back against the wall. He moves his hand, the cuffs digging further into his wrists, to touch around his neck, of course, another chain knotted around his neck.

Sam leans his head back against the harsh concrete, the sounds of his breathing echoed through the small room and it’s driving him crazy, how could there be no other noises, no light, no smell even. It is as if the room is surrounded by nothingness, emptiness.  
He closes his eyes, but it doesn’t matter if they are open or closed, it is pitch black either way. He is exhausted and aching everywhere, but too scared to fall asleep, if he falls asleep he would be vulnerable, again.

He sits there, for hours or even days, time has no meaning in this concrete box, all he knows is thirst, hunger and most of all pain.

\------------

Sam's eyes are slowly closing, he clenches his jaw and jolts them open again, his eyelids are heavy and start closing once again. He nearly retreats into unconsciousness when he hears a lock, and another lock and suddenly there is a piercing light that fills the room, burning his eyes. It takes him a few seconds to adjust to the white light that fills the small room and he takes note of his surroundings, the concrete walls splattered with blood, one of the walls turns out to be a steel door that seems to have many extensive locks on it. He looks down at his wrists, the cuffs have been put on so tight they are cutting through his flesh.

He gazes up slowly, a large figure standing at the door “Hiya, Sammy.” Sam clenches his jaw and leans his head back against the concrete, examining the figure. He is a large, strong-built man, probably a foot taller than his Dad. Sam shivers as the man turns to his side, leaning against the doorway and revealing a large scar that stretches along his right cheek. The man is wearing a black suit, which is semi-reassuring to Sam, people don’t normally like to get nice clothes all dirty and bloody when torturing their prisoners, so he must be safe… for now.  
“Don’t call me Sammy you jackass” Sam’s words slur slightly, and his voice is shakier then he would have liked to have sounded. The man chuckles to himself and steps closer towards him, he turns around to the door. “He’s got a mouth on him, ain't he?”

Sam peers around the man standing in front of him to reveal another figure standing just out of the doorway.

_Crap, how stupid could I be? 2 men grabbed me, so there should be 2 men here... Maybe even more... Men? Are they even men? They could be vampires or werewolves or ghouls, shapeshifters, skinwalkers, wraiths or demons, they could be anything._

Sam closes his eyes for a split second before the first man’s laugh split through the room and shocks his eyes open. “Sammy, keep your eyes open” the man turns around to the doorway again “The drugs must still be in his system..” he glances back towards Sam, his grin is sickening “So Sammy, I’m Brady and this, well, we call him Boulder”  
Sam’s hope plummet down, they told him their names, the chances of them letting him go just went from slim to nothing.

Brady crouches down to meet Sam’s eye level “Here’s how things are gonna work, you will do what we say and we might let you go…” Sam marshalls up what moisture he has left in his mouth and spits at Brady in the face. The tall man stands up, wiping his face with a handkerchief he pulls from his suit pocket, he laughs and starts walking out the door, he stops but doesn’t look back at Sam “You're going to regret that, Sammy.”

Brady calling him ‘Sammy’ made him sick to his stomach, only Dean is allowed to call him Sammy, but he has no time to worry about that now. The second man, Boulder, walks closer into the room. Boulder is an odd nickname, Sam doesn’t want to think about how he got it.

The man advances further into the room, he is even taller than Brady and looks obviously stronger. Boulder isn't wearing a suit, his leather jacket is dirty and his denim jeans have the same marks of mud, blood and general dirtiness. He slid fingerless gloves onto his hands, the blood-stained fabric makes Sam squirm.

Sam tries to sink back into the wall, tries to disappear into the concrete but it’s no use, he is trapped in a room with an obviously insane creature.  
Boulder licks his lower lip and laughs at Sam’s distress before clenching his fist and punching Sams cheekbone. The forceful movement throws Sam’s head back against the concrete, he winces and hangs his head low, the pain radiating through his whole head. Sam could feel his cheek already starting to swell and bruise but he can’t cry, he won’t give this lunatic the reaction he wants, he has to stay strong.

_Don’t cry, Don't cry, don't be a baby... Dean and Dad won't let me home if I cry, they won’t let me go back to them if they knew I was weak._

Sam lifts his head back up just as another fist lands in his ribs, he tries to curl up into a ball and contain the pain but the chains stop him. The air is knocked out of his lungs and he breathes rapidly, trying to replace the craved oxygen. Another punch lands on his collarbone as he hears a crack, he hollers out in pain, a stabbing sensation runs up his neck and shoulder. Sam holds his tears back, he wouldn’t cry. Another punch lands against his head, and another one to his chest and then another one and another one until he mercifully passes out, leaving the pain and screaming behind.

\------------

Dean stumbles out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, he grabs his keys and drops to the floor, gripping onto his phone. Dean crawls to the bench and pulls himself up, the sweat and tears mix on his face.

I can't just sit around and do nothing, I have to go look for Sammy, I have to fix my mistake… I have to find him before… before it’s too late…

Dean steps out of the door, the cold, harsh, night air slapping him in the face, he doesn't have time to be cold though, he has to find Sam. He jumps into the Impala and starts driving, he doesn't know where he is driving but he knows that being in the car, scouring this monstrous town for Sammy is better than sitting at that ratty motel with just his thoughts.


	3. Realities and Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally comes back from his hunt to help Dean search for Sammy.  
> Sam endures a little more pain, but how much can he take before it's all too much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the overwhelming support and messages regarding the last few chapters. Sorry, this was released a bit later than I originally thought... I have had a lot on lately and hopefully I will releases the next chapter within the next week, kudos and comments really do make me write faster I have to say :)
> 
> Also, please excuse my horrible chapter summaries... They are my weak spot in writing. Thank you to my amazing friend @silly_slimy_slap for helping with my ideas and helping me get through my writer's block. She has literally been the things I dump all of my ideas onto, and your editing help has been amazing!
> 
> Once again, if you guys have any ideas or areas you think I could improve my writing do not hesitate to tell me, I am always looking from feedback from you guys. Also, find me on Instagram @sammy_winchesty !!

Dean pulls up outside of the motel after hours of driving through the small town, looking for clues, although he wasn’t really looking, he was speeding down backroads examining every person he laid eyes on, after all, they could have been the thing to take Sammy.

Dean drags himself from the Impala and stumbles inside, finding John perched at the table, beer in hand.

“Dean, where the hell have you been?”

Dean continues forward and collapses onto the couch, sighing and running a hand through his short hair “Looking for Sam” his voice is harsh and desperate.

“You should have waited for me.”

“Why? You were in no rush to get home…”   
“Dean, I had to wrap up the hunt.”

Dean rolls his eyes and leans forward, resting his head in his hands “Dad... We - I-i just need to bring him home.” His voice cracks and he hides his eyes from John, the tears brimming in them were a sign of weakness, a vulnerability that he couldn’t expose to John.

John takes a sip of his beer and hesitates before filling the room with his gruff voice 

“Dean,  _ we _ need to bring him home, I know.” He sighs and stands up, walking to the window and scanning outside.

Dean watches his Father’s movements.

_ He’s so comfortable with his son missing, with this whole situation… How can someone be so okay with this? _

John glances down at his watch “Its 10 am, his school would be open, we should go ask them if they know what happened or where Sam could be.” Dean nods and stands, rummaging through his jacket pocket and pulling out the keys to the Impala, he trudges himself towards the exit but John maneuvers himself in-between the door and Dean.

“What the hell are you doing Dean? You can't help Sam if you die from crashing the car due to pure exhaustion” Dean clenches his jaw, about to rebut against his Dad, before John steps closer to Dean, almost threatening him, it makes Dean sink into himself a bit.

“Son, how long were you driving last night… 12 hours? 15 hours? Give me the keys now boy.”

Dean exhales sharply and throws the keys into his father's chest. Stepping around him, brushing his shoulder on the way outside.

\------------

Sam wakes to silence, again. It’s so dark, he’s not even sure if his eyes are open or not. He breathes in deeply, trying to push away the pain that saturates his body. His breath hitches when there’s an abrupt stabbing pain in his chest and Sam suddenly becomes aware that his injuries may be serious. Sam sits up straighter and immediately regrets it, shivering pain echos through his shoulder and neck.  Sam clenches his teeth to ease the discomfort, only to be met by a harsh ache through his jaw. He eases himself back against the wall and goes limp.

_ Just stay still, stay still and Dean will find you... Dean is already looking for you, he has to be... Dad might be looking for you as well, he’s probably not happy with Dean… Oh God, I got Dean in trouble, he probably hates me now… I’m such an idiot, how could I get caught like this. I need to get out myself, no one is coming to get me… _

Sam sweeps away his quickly escalating thoughts that his traitorous mind allowed. He tries his hardest not to move and to avoid as much pain as he can. He keeps his breathing shallow and doesn't move his hands or feet, despite how submerged they are in pins and needles. Aches fill his body regardless of his feeble attempt to minimize the pain. 

\------------

The drive to Sam’s school had been filled with awkward silence and tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Dean leans against the Impala, watching his Father walk back towards the car with a smug grin on his face. That normally means that he got the information he wanted by flirting with some hopeless girl. “What did you find out?” Dean’s voice was filled with judgement and annoyance at John’s lack of care about this whole scenario.

“Nothing much, Sam was here until school finished, she saw him sitting on a bench over there..” John gestures to a nearby bench and sighs “and then she left.”

Dean nods and swiftly walks towards the bench with his father trailing closely behind. John examines the area from a few meters away, his eyes gliding over the torn up grass and gravel kicked onto the road. Dean clenches his jaw, the obvious signs of a struggle making him uneasy. He squats down and runs his hand over his face, he starts standing up but stops when something glistening catches his eyes. He moves towards the bench and pulls out Sam’s backpack from underneath it, the zip mirroring against the morning sunlight had caught his attention.

“Crap” Dean sighs and looks up towards his father who nodded in response. John runs his eyes over the scene again and looks around at the nearby bus stops and cars. “There should be a camera somewhere around here... We can go down to the station and run through the cameras around here... Maybe one picked up something.” John’s tone gets more flat and hopeless with every word.

Dean clenches his jaw and holds back all the emotions and thoughts that were running through his mind.

_ Sam has been taken... It’s real, there was a struggle and his bag was flung to the ground… He’s gone, I wasn’t here to protect him and now he’s gone… _

Dean registers what John says and notes his desperate and despairing tone.

_ Oh, God... Even Dad doesn’t think we will find him, he’s probably dead... Oh God, he’s probably dead… Sam was struggling and in pain and scared while I was fooling around with some chick. I was meant to be there for him, I was meant to protect him and look out for him and now he’s gone. _

John could sense Dean’s quickly escalating response and pulled him up off his knees “Don't break down Dean. We will find him and kill the thing that took him… If there’s one thing we know for sure, Sam is too stubborn to die easily.” Dean nods and releases his jaw from the painful clasp, he clutches onto Sammy's bag as he walks towards the Impala. 

\------------

Sam stares into the darkness, the silence is deafening and the only thing in the room with him are his thoughts.

_ So stupid, how could I be this careless and this vulnerable? I should have calmed down and fought back more… I’m a hunter and I got jumped… Real hunters don’t lose fights, Dad doesn’t lose fights. _

A lock unhitching breaks the silence and Sam stares towards the direction of the door, closing his eyelids slightly to prepare for the harsh, sudden light. A figure appears in the door frame, it’s Boulder. Sam can tell because of his height, he has to bend down slightly so he doesn’t hit his head on the door. Sam squirms and attempts to disappear into the concrete wall or the puddle of blood beneath him. The large man's sickening laughter fills the room in response to Sam’s weak struggling “Oh Sammy, you’re not getting out of here… Unless we want you to…” He advances into the room until he is standing right in front of Sam, he squats down with a grunt to reach Sam’s eye level. Sam tries to mask his shaking by spitting in the man’s face. Boulder nods and grins as he wipes the spit onto his sleeve, he looks at Sam with wide eyes before abruptly lunging towards Sam and clasping onto his shoulder. Sam hollers in pain, it was the side that he suspected his collar bone has been broken. Boulder cackles madly with Sam’s scream and grips tighter, pushing his shoulder back towards the wall. Sam instinctively tries to move back with his shoulder, pain sears up through his neck shoulder and chest, Boulder slowly forces Sams shoulder in the direction behind his back. Sam’s screams bounce through the small room until a sickening pop stuns his body and fills his ears. He shouts out louder and passes out to the noise of Boulder laughing.

 

When Sam comes too Boulder is leaning against a wall holding a silver blade in his hand, inspecting the jagged edge. The man looks up and his grin widens when he notices Sam’s open eyes. 

“Finally… Thought you were going to be out all day sleeping beauty.” His tone is diminishing and rough. Sam dares not to move, his shoulder is still displaced and his collar bone screams in pain, the awkward position his deformed upper body is set in makes it nearly impossible for him to lean back against the wall without a pierce of protest from everywhere in his body. Boulder pulls a lighter out from his pocket and flashes a grin at Sam “You know one of the only things more painful than being repeatedly slashed by a blade for hours, is being repeatedly slashed by a searing hot blade for hours.”He was unable to contain a chuckle through the last few words.

In a panic, Sam tries to stall “Why are you doing this? What are you?” Boulder flicks the lighter on and holds it under the blade, moving it around to attain an even temperature. “Oh Sammy, I can’t tell you… Don’t wanna spoil it for boss man.” He looks down at his blade, he emphasises ever time he says  _ Sammy,  _ he must know how much it bugs Sam, only Dean is allowed to call him that. He holds the lighter on, heating up the blade for a few more minutes as Sam struggles against the chains, desperately hoping for a weak spot he didn’t notice before. Boulder clicks the lighter off and moves towards Sam, the blade glowing from the heat. Sam struggles more “W-Wait, wait… W-what are you? A demon, vampire, shapeshifter?” He sounds obviously desperate and scared. Boulder laughs and bends down, holding the blade against Sam’s cheek. The room was filled with a despairing whimper from Sam along with an offensive searing from the burn forming on Sam’s face. The large man presses the jagged side harder against Sam’s cheek until the skin breaks and he guides it along his cheekbone, leaving a trail of burns and fresh blood dripping from the cut. Sam bites his lower lip, desperately trying to contain his tears.

_ I can’t cry, can’t cry… Dean and Dad won’t take me back if I cry… _

Boulder pulls the blade from Sam’s face, a grin creeping from ear to ear “Oh Sammy… I am all human, nothing supernatural about me…”

_ Human? What, What kind of human would do this? He can’t be human… we save humans, not hunt them… I mean, demons I get, people are crazy. _

Boulder’s sinister laugh gets louder as he sees the confusion of Sam’s face, he moves the red hot blade to Sam’s other cheek and marks out another bloody line. He rips Sam’s shirt off and slices the blade down his chest in various different areas, he presses the blade up against many areas of his body to leave brutal, simmering burn marks. Sam gives up on the not screaming part, his yells pierce through Boulder’s ears which only makes him cut deeper and harder. But Sam doesn’t cry, he doesn’t let a single tear drop which irritates Boulder and leads him to slice into Sam’s skin even more brutally. 

Sam longs to fall into unconsciousness and wishes for the pain to stop, or for John or Dean to run in and save him, save the day like they always do, but nothing happens. The pain overwhelms Sam and his screaming ceases, he mercifully retreats into his mind, hiding from the invading pain, waiting for it to stop, taking refuge in a distant dream. He burrows into a fantasy where his whole family is there, laughing about random things that shouldn't be that funny. He waits here until long after Boulder has finished destructing his body, it’s better in here, safer and happier, Sam decides to stay in his mind for a bit longer, not wanting to return to the pain just yet.


	4. The Illegal Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam keeps trying to escape but is losing hope fast.  
> Dean and John rapidly search for their missing Sammy, getting closer and closer, however, obstacle get in their way, as they are rivalled with internal battles and arguments with each other.  
> Blah Blah you get it... I'm pretty crap at summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooooo sorry this took so long to write. I have some reasons;  
> 1\. I am an extremely slow writer.  
> 2\. It has been the end of the term so I have had some many tests and assessments due.  
> 3\. I have had a lot of personal stuff to do as well and have had barely any free time.  
> 4\. I am grieving over the death of supernatural.
> 
> A few disclaimers, because I am such a slow writer I am sorry if there are any inconsistencies throughout the stories (let me know if you find one)... Also, I know this was set when Sam was young and technology wasn't that advanced in this time but I needed it for the story soooooo oh well.
> 
> Massive thanks to my 2 besties for reading this over and helping me proofread it, I suck when it comes to tense and POV so yeah.
> 
> Also thanks so much for the continued support, kudos and comments, It really does help me to write faster and better!!
> 
> Sorry, I won't be able to post in the next few weeks... I am going away for a while (no wifi)!  
> This chapter is pretty long (long enough to be 2 chapters) so sorry and you're welcome.
> 
> And as always follow my SPN fan account on insta @sammy_winchesty
> 
> Also, this chapter is pretty graphic with all the torture, and swear words are said... I repeat swear words are said.

_ Smile, and nod, cue laughter, just act casual… Don’t let him see your rage or fear. Nod and walk. _

 

Dean had barely made it through the conversation with the police at the desk, a simple task and he nearly blew it all. John walks next to him down the long, dull corridor, shooting daggers at Dean through his gaze for almost messing up. It was one of the easiest things to do in the job, fooling the cop into letting them see the security tapes, posing as snarky, sarcastic FBI agents and Dean couldn’t find anything to say, standing there like a lost puppy.

They walk into a musky, small room, filled with screens and littered with wires. John gives a stubborn nod, a signal for the other man to leave the room. John heaves onto the chair in front of the computer and starts searching through it, Dean stands behind him, eagerly assessing John’s movements, urging him to type faster. The older man scrolls through files for a few minutes before a video opens on the screen, Dean practically jumps into the computer, his eyes desperate and wide. John skips through some of the footage and stops at 3 pm, both the men’s eyes glued to the screen. The video is blurry and it displays a carpark, to the right is the park bench and a pole next to it, if the camera had been positioned a few inches to the left, the seat would be out of the frame. Dean was holding his breath, evaluating ever pixel on the screen as hundreds of kids flooded into the carpark area, most of them clearing out within a few minutes. Dean spares a glance at his father, sitting straight with no emotion on his face, his eyes empty and stern. 

Dean watches the seconds tick by on the small clock in the top right hand of the screen.

**3:13**

Sam appears in the frame and lunges himself down onto the park bench, lowering his bag onto the floor next to him. The figure is fuzzy and small, but Dean could see it was Sammy, holding himself proudly, looking around the carpark, waiting for him to show up. Sam sits up straighter as a van pulls up a few meters away from the younger boy. John leans back on his chair when 2 large, very large men get out of the van and casually walk over to Sam.

**3:29**

The 2 giants strides get more aggressive and demanding and suddenly one of them throws a punch at Sam, he ducks it and pulls his knife out, Dean watches in amazement, wanting to look away but not being able to. He needs to study this, take in every detail and acknowledge everything on the screen if he has any chance at finding Sammy.

He watches them tussle a few more moments before one of them stabs a needle into Sam’s neck. His baby brother struggles a few more seconds before his legs give out and his head drops back into the man's chest. 

_ The beast, the monster, fucking picks up Sam and throws him into the van, fucking throws him like he’s a piece of trash. The van door closes and speeds out of the frame. I mean… Who would do that? Treat Sammy like a piece of friggen trash! _

**3:34**

The whole thing happened in 5 minutes, John stops the video and the room is silent. Dean backs away from the screen and leans into the wall for support, his breathing is shaky and fragile, tears are brimming in his eyes. Dean is light-headed, maybe from forgetting to breathe through basically the whole video, he shakes black spots out of his vision and subtly brushes the tears from his eyes, he can’t be vulnerable at a time like this… Sammy needs him.

Dean glances back at John who looks completely unphased “I’m going to send it to myself” his voice is normal, even calm.

“Did we just watch the same video? Are you fucking kidding me?”

John looks up at Dean with a look as if he doesn’t know what Dean’s talking about.

“Yes, Dean. We can’t let emotions get in the way.” John looks completely unsympathetic like he doesn't even care that his son just got kidnapped by 2 giant men.

He stands up and starts walking to the door, disregarding Dean completely.

Dean manages to talk, not letting his voice show his fear and anger, “I'm going to call Bobby and Caleb.”

John turns around, a look of disbelief in his face “Why would you do that?”

“Are you kidding me? This is Sammy we are talking about, we need to get him back safely... Dad, this isn't just another one of your hunts, this is your son! We need back up on this!” John looks at his son and Dean steps back subtly. The death stare the older man holds on Dean is maddening, for a minute Dean thinks he might lash out and hit him. “Okay,” John says firmly and effortlessly before turning away and walking out of the room. Dean sighs and leans back against the wall.

 

\------------

 

Sam is brought back to reality eventually. It was relieving, hiding from the pain, but it had found him again, dragging him back into the concrete prison. Every breath is a struggle and everywhere on his body hurts. The pain has been numbed slightly from all the blood loss but it is still there.

 

_ How long have I been here? Days? Weeks? I need to get out of here and find Dad and Dean, I need to say sorry for being so careless and irresponsible. _

 

Sam’s conversion with himself is interrupted by a blinding light shooting into the room. He hisses with the sudden exposure of light, burning his eyes, after a few moments of adapting to the intense light he looks up. Brady is standing there, a smug grin plastered onto his face. “You don’t look too good Sammy” 

“Fuck you,” Sam’s voice is hoarse and raspy but he managed to stutter out a few words.

Brady almost chuckles at Sam’s feeble attempt of an insult “Can I get you anything? Water, food?” 

Sam manages a laugh. “A key to unlock these chains would be great,” it is hard to talk through the pain, his words come out weak and broken despite his effort to make them snarky and strong.

Brady smirks and lets out an obviously fake laugh. “You sure are a funny one, ain’t ya... But unfortunately, I can’t do that just yet.”

“Who are you? What do you want with me?”

Brady’s smirk widens, if that is even possible, “I just want to hear you scream…”

Sam manages a chuckle “You are so dead… When my Dad and brother find me... You are-” He is cut off by Brady, “John Winchester and Dean Winchester… Yes, yes I know.. John and me go way back!” He sounds like a 3-year-old who is about to get ice cream, so excited and happy.

“What are you?” Sam looks the tall man up and down. Brady’s hazel, dull eyes flash black. Sam sinks deeper into the floor, his eyes wide with fear and realisation “Y-you're a demon!”

“Bingo!” He laughs madly as his eyes transition back into their normal white and brown colour. 

Brady bites his lower lip and paces around the small room “Now I noticed that a certain someone wouldn’t let the tears fall... That made Boulder… mad… You see he has a thing for people crying, so a little bit of advice, just go along with it.”

Sam stares at a crack in the wall of the room, opposite him. “F-fuck you,” he has lost hope now, his voice shows the despair and his eyes are dull and glassy.

“Yes, yes, I know… Bye Sammy”

Sam looks up as the man leaves the room with a grin on his face. Boulder walks in holding a hose and turns it on, mercilessly blasting Sam with the cold, harsh water.

Sam screams as the pressure bruises his skin. It batters his chest and as the water runs over his broken bones, Sam hollers louder. He closes his eyes and angles his face away from the relentless blast. Boulder’s laughter echoes off the wet, dripping walls. After what seemed like hours (and could have been) the hose finally stops. Boulder walks out of the room, leaving the door open. Sam is shivering, his hair drips with the cold, abusive water. He glances down at his chest, his cuts are clean but more bruises are littered around his body and his skin is abnormally light from the freezing exposure to the water. He moves his gaze to the floor, puddles of red water are dispersed in the room, the mixture of the cold liquid and Sam’s crusted blood dirties the room.

Boulder returns a few minutes later, holding a plastic plate with food on it. He roughly throws it in front of Sam, making sure to stay a few meters back as if Sam is cursed with a contagious disease. 

“Eat.” Boulder spits with the emphasis of the word. Sam is about to rebut but realised that he is practically starving and the rumbling from his stomach makes it known. He pulls on his chains. “Little help?” Boulder sighs and moves closer to Sam, pulling a key out of his pocket and unlocking only Sam’s hands. Sam reaches out for the plate and is met by a searing pain through his upper body… Right, his shoulder is still dislocated. He breathes heavily and pulls his other arm around, cradling his disfigured shoulder and yanking it harshly back into place. He doesn’t have enough time to be gentle and it isn’t the injury with the most pain either. Sam pulls the plate of food onto his lap. The mashed potatoes are soggy and cold and the beans next to it, chewy and disgusting. There is no fork or spoon so Sam is left to eat with his hands, scooping the contents up with his fingers. Boulder walks away, obviously disgusted by the way Sam is eating his food. 

Sam quickly scoffs down everything on his plate.

 

_ Wait... They could have poisoned it… But surely if they wanted me dead, I would be dead already. Although it could be a poison that doesn't kill me but instead inflicts a lot of pain. Wow, that’s great… I am so stupid, of course, you never eat food that your captors willingly provide... Dean would never have eaten it… Dad never would have eaten it. Maybe I deserve to die for begin so stupid and reckless. _

 

Sam leans his head back against the concrete wall, he looks at the ground, desperately scanning the area for a way out, a glimmer of hope, anything. He looks at the wall to his left, scanning the rim between the floor and wall. A skinny, silver wire lay, crevassed between the 2 surfaces. He extends his arm out as far as it would go, despite the swarm of aches and stabbing sensations that filter through his body. Although Sam is tall, and his arms are longer (and lankier) than the average kid his age, he couldn’t quite reach the wire. He retreats back against the wall, regaining the breath he had lost when reaching out for the wire. It had used a tremendous amount of energy to lean out that far and he held his breath to minimize the pain.

 

_ Dean would be able to reach the wire, Dad would be able to reach the wire. _

 

Sam leans out again, desperate and intent on getting the wire this time. He pushes his arm out, an ache spreading through his shoulder the further he pushes, it is the arm of his recently dislocated shoulder. Sam could practically feel his shoulder moving around, the joints still loose. He breathes in deeply and pushes his arm further, biting his lower lip to contain the screams. A tangy metallic taste fills his mouth as blood seeps out of his lip, and he eases on the biting slightly, still pushing his arm until another sickening pop filled the room. His shoulder is bent out unnaturally, but he uses it to his advantage. Guiding the disfigured arm towards the wire to his left until his fingers brush the top of the wire that is disregarded in the corner of the room. He pulls it forward using his nail until he is able to grasp it. Sam sighs in relief and leans his head back against the wall, pulling his arm delicately back. He puts the wire down next to him and cradles his shoulder with his unharmed arm once again. Putting it back into place, breathing ecstatically as he did so.

 

He picks up the wire and fiddles to get a good grasp on it, his hands are shaking dramatically and his breathing is still rapid. He uses his free hand to trace along the collar he has on, feeling for a lock of some sort. He outlines a small lock to his right side, Sam pulls his unwilling arm over his body to his right side. His shoulder sears in protest. He fiddles around with the wire and jimmies it around a few minutes until the collar loosens. It is a miracle that he could unlock it because 

  1. His hands were shaking so much. 
  2. He could barely breathe through the pain
  3. He couldn’t even see the lock.



Guess all of the hours John and Dean spent teaching Sam how to pick locks actually paid off.

 

He pulls the chains off his neck and pushes the wire into the elastic band of his pants. He uses the wall to hoist himself up. His body is considerably weaker than a few days ago… Maybe heavier… Whatever it is, he is finding it considerably difficult to support his weight. He hobbles over to the door that was thankfully still open, thanks to Boulder. He peeks around the side of the door. The interior looks as if they are staying in an old apartment or motel. The door opens to a hall with flaking yellow paint on the wall and splintering wood floors. A red woollen carpet is thrown onto the old wood in an attempt to ‘style’ it up. The skinny room is practically empty besides the carpet. The passage opens out into what Sam figures to be a lounge room, a box TV sitting on the ground with an old brown, stained couch placed in the middle of the medium-sized room.

Across from Sams little cupboard is a kitchen, white, moulded tiles are patterned on the floor, plastic yellow cupboards line the kitchen. Sam is still standing at the door of his small prison, through the kitchen he can vaguely make out a wire door that looks to lead outside. A few windows are randomly placed throughout the kitchen and he can just make out the colours of a sunset, slipping through the tinted windows.

 

_ How long have I been here? It must have been over a day… It could have been days, even weeks… _

 

Sam is about to tiptoe out of his cupboard when he hears the voice of none other than Boulder, and the shouting of Brady. The argument sounds like it is coming from the lounge room. He has to move now.

Without thinking again Sam sprints towards the kitchen. A newfound energy pushes Sam forward, making him ignore his aching and opposed body forward, towards the exit. He hears screams come from the lounge room, followed by heavy, hustling footsteps. He runs through the kitchen and shoots his arm forward towards the door, gripping the handle and yanking it open with all of the strength he could muster. The air is cold on his bare, tampered chest but he goes forwards. The instant smell of gas and rain waft through his body, the door leads to an alleyway littered with graffiti and trash. Sam starts running down the rusted steps of the apartment when a hand grabs his shoulder and yanks him back. Sam screams out for help, he shouts into the empty night for anyone to come, but really, he is shouting for Dean. The hand roughly pulls Sam back up the few steps he had descended and pushes him into the floor. Sam tries to scramble away, aimlessly throwing punches into the air around him. A foot lands into the side of his stomach, making Sam wheeze and gasp for air. Hard boots kick him in his chest and stomach again and again. Sam’s leg is grabbed and he is pulled back into the kitchen, over the lip of the door. He keeps shouting for help, desperately screaming into the empty streets until his voice is hoarse and raw. The door slams closed and Sam looks around for a weapon he could use.

 

_ Just find a weapon, something, anything to fight them off. Fight, run, get help, get Dean. Weapon, weapon, nothing… How is there nothing in the whole fucking kitchen, not even a knife? What is this place? _

 

Sam looks up, Boulder is fuming, gripping his leg tightly. Brady is standing a few meters away, his face plastered with an evil scowl. His voice is annoyed and desperate, he generally sounds crazy. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” he mutters to himself, then his voice gets louder and angrier, directed to Sam “Sammy, that was not a smart move. Now we are just going to have to teach you how to not run away.” He looks at Boulder, grinning at him.

Boulder drops Sam’s leg and stomps on it with his boots. Sam screams at the brutal, unexpected force. It feels as though the bone is being charred by searing hot embers and the skin submerged in ice cold water. The pain shoots through his whole leg and up into his spine. He struggles to breathe in through the constant swarm of torture, he wants to curl up into a ball and disappear into the floor but the pain practically paralyzes him and stops him from moving. He stays sprawled out on the floor, screaming in agonizing pain, he can’t stop when the tears start to fall, stinging the cuts on his cheeks. Boulder starts yelling out in laughter, dancing around the room like a monkey. Sam cries out, his voice long past aching from all the screams he had produced in the last few days. 

Sam squeezes his eyes closed tightly and clenches his jaw. Boulder kneels down next to Sam and whispers mockingly in his ear. “Guess you’re not as tough as you thought.”

Sam manages a few quiet words in between his sobs “F-Fuck Y-You..” Sam could see the anger and rage build up in Boulder’s eyes at his response. Boulder lashes out, clasping his enormous hands around Sam’s frail, weak neck. He tightens his grip and shakes Sam’s head slightly. “You fucking idiot! You just had to ruin all of that! I was happy, and you just had to ruin it. You stupid child!”

Sam opens his mouth, trying to suck in any air he could get. Black dots dance in Sam's vision as his body gets weaker and limper, the pain ceasing slightly more every second he is deprived of oxygen. Sam closes his eyes, inviting the unconsciousness in, retreating away from the pain. Until Brady screams at Boulder and his murderous hands lift from Sam’s throat. Sam wheezes and engulfs in as much air as he possibly can. Boulder stands up and aggressively walks away from Sam, kicking the cupboard as he exits the kitchen,

Brady moves closer to Sam 

“I don’t normally like getting my hands dirty, but it seems you upset the oversized baby.” He laughs and grabs Sam’s broken, not broken more like crushed leg and yanks it, forcing a cracked scream to escape Sam’s lips. He pulls on his leg, dragging him along the kitchen tiles, leaving a trail of tears, sweat and blood. Sam cries out, his yells echo off of the rotten tiles. Brady reaches the room and throws Sam against the concrete, making him hit his head against the hard wall. Sam is instantly dazed, warm blood trickles down his forehead, his ears ring with a high pitched squeal and what sounds like hysterical screaming. He succumbs against the wall, leaning against its cold support and realises the other disturbing sound is himself screaming. Brady walks over to him and slaps the cuffs on his arms, considerably tighter than last time. He pulls the chain up slightly, suspending both of Sam’s arms up, depriving him of comfort and relaxation. Brady squats down next to Sam and grabs the collar that was rudely discarded on the floor and picks it up, slamming it around Sam's neck and tightening it so much that Sam could barely breathe through the fierce grip of the metal. Brady laughs and stands up, kicking Sam in his side. Sam hollers in pain, but not just from the kick, it feels like he’s been stabbed and a quick glance down at his side confirms it. The wire that had been carelessly stuffed in the elastic of his pats was now jammed into his flesh just above his hip. He cries out even louder and throws his head back in agony. Brady leans down to Sam’s side, inspecting the new wound with a wide grin, “so that’s how you got out… It’s not all the idiot's fault. Hmmm, well at least now I don’t have to pat you down.” He roughly pulls the wire out and examines the small skinny object covered in blood. Sam looks down at where the wire was and watches in awe as blood spills out of him. Brady looks back at Sam’s wound, now gushing with blood “Ah crap… I don't want you to die, not yet.” Sam looks at the man who seems to be having an internal debate with himself until he stands up and walks out of the room, returning with a flimsy bandaid. “Let’s hope this will stop the blood” Brady laughs as he cruelly pats the inadequate material onto Sam’s skin. The younger boy whimpers from the contact but he doesn’t try to move away.

Brady stands up, studying Sam with a sinister sneer, he goes out of the room and returns again with a Polaroid camera and holds it in front of his eye “smile” he mocks as a flash penetrates the room, the photo slips out of the camera and Brady starts shaking it, still watching Sam closely with intent. Sam appears after a few moments on the small rectangle. His limp, pale body strung up against the blood splattered concrete wall. The tears on his cheeks illuminate from the flash and fresh blood is dripping from various areas on his body. Bruises of black, blue, purple and green are covering his chest, sides, face and shoulders. Sams' neck is stained with claw marks and visibly red hand grips, his head is set in place, help upright by the chains and his arms are held just above his chest as his body stretches out unwillingly. Sam is looking up at the camera, his eyes glisten from the flash, they were glassy from recently crying and they were filled with desperation, sorrow and distress.


	5. Ramble On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is still being tortured.  
> Bobby and Caleb arrive and help John and Dean out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooooo sorry this took so long! I was away and I have been so busy.  
> I am really struggling to write this, I have been lacking motivation and skill hahaha.  
> I'm finding it especially hard to write from Dean's POV so go easy on me! Also forming coherent, non-borning sentence's was a struggle for this chapter.  
> I will try to post by next week but no promises. I am just waiting for some motivation to come and bitchslap me in the face.  
> Anyways thanks to all the love & support from my fellow readers, I love the advice and comments and they really do help me write!! Sorry about any grammar and tense mistakes... As I always say... I am really crap at sticking to one tense ahahaha
> 
> I am also mentally distraught after the finale of Supernatural.  
> I'm sure all of you can understand my pain.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!!

Dean speeds back to the motel, silencing any conversation between John and him by blasting Led Zeppelin at full volume. Dean’s eyes are glued on the road in front of him, refusing to glance at John who is staring holes in the side of Dean’s head. He screetches baby to a stop and jumps out of the car, slamming the door closed and storming off to their room. John follows Dean, murmuring under his breath. They enter the room and Dean sits down at the table, burying his head in his hands, breathing deeply and trying not to cry or be vulnerable in front of John. John immediately gravitates towards the fridge as if it is a magnet. He throws the door open and pulls out a full bottle of Jack Daniels, flicking the cap off. He collapses onto a chair near Dean, gulping down the alcohol as if his life depended on it. Dean glances up at John, staring at his mess of a father.

“What the hell are you doing? We - We should be looking for Sam! Making calls and - and doing something!”

John stares at Dean, a scowl plastered on his face. He takes another swig of the now half empty bottle of whisky. “Watch ya tone with me boy!” His words are already slurring slightly. Dean rolls his eyes and starts to walk away from John, intent on doing anything and everything to find Sammy. John stands up behind Dean and throws the bottle at the wall, inches from Deans head. Dean spins around, shocked and hurt that his father would do that, not knowing if he meant to hit his head or not. John stumbles closer to Dean “Don’t show your back to me,  _ Dean _ !” John emphasises his son's name as if it is poison. He pushes past Dean, murmuring under his breath about useless sons. Dean is shaking, his eyes wide with hurt and horror, he moves towards the shattered glass on the floor and starts picking it up. He collects the shards in a little pile and carries them to the bin. He wavers back to the  _ accident _ and studies the amber liquid dripping down the cream walls and spewed on the white carpet. 

 

They were probably going to have to pay for that with their non-existent money. 

 

Dean sits down opposite the crash site and cradles his legs to his chest, slowly rocking back and forward, silently wishing for the stains to disappear. John re-emerges from his room, hobbling down the hall to the kitchen. He opens the door and pulls out another bottle of whisky, muttering to himself “Damn stupid boy made me spill my drink.”

Dean stays still, sitting on the floor, hugging himself and staring at the wall, trying to disappear into the dirty carpet beneath him. 

Maybe if he stayed still enough, John wouldn’t notice him.

John walks back to Dean and yanks him up by the shoulder, Dean looks at John, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Clean this up ya bitch” He pushes Dean against the wall, startling a yelp out of the younger man. Dean turns around, quietly chuckling to himself. John steps closer to Dean, “Something funny boy?” It sounded like more of a threat or warning than an actual question.

Dean grinned at John “A little bit yeah... I just find it pretty fricken funny how you don't give 2 shits about Sammy or me!” His face turned serious through the sentence. Johns' eyes are wide, he is practically steaming with rage and you can see his muscles go rigid. He holds Dean by his leather jacket and pulls him closer to his face, for a split second Dean thinks that his father might eat him. John screams in Dean’s face about him being ungrateful and an idiot and about how he could never be a real hunter when he would go and cry like a little girl over the smallest things. He is shouting in Deans face so loud that Dean is sure everyone in the motel can hear every one of his father’s words. Johns erratic look in his eyes escalate with every word and he starts screaming about how Sammy is weak and couldn’t hold his own in a fight. John’s rant is interrupted by a harsh knock on the door. John pushes Dean against the wall and stumbles towards the door, swiftly opening it. Bobby and Caleb stand on the other side and brush past John to get inside. Bobby quickly scans the room for Dean and finds him leaning against the wall, a traumatised look on his face. Bobby nods at Dean, a silent  _ are you okay _ emitting through the tension. Dean nods and straightens up, easily faking his normal sly smirk, although Bobby could see the fear and worry in his glassy eyes.

Caleb walks into the main room, eyeing the new stain and crumbs of glass on the floor, he looks back to John, slouching against the wall, sweaty and glaring at the men. “You look, great man,” He says sarcastically. Bobby glares at John “We could hear ya from down the street ya idjit.” John nods and picks his new bottle of whisky up from the coffee table, he stumbles down the hall and slams the bedroom door behind himself. Bobby and Caleb exchange a glance and then move to the couches, gesturing for Dean to sit down. Dean sits down on the opposite couch with a huff and runs his hand through his dirty blonde hair. Bobby studies Dean for a few moments “Ya right?” Dean sighs and leans back against the couch “Oh yeah, just peachy.” 

Caleb nods “John can be a dickhead sometimes.” Dean raises his brows and stares at the floor, nodding “The beer doesn’t make it better.” Bobby sighs and stands up, pacing the small room. “Tell us whatcha know...”

Dean rubs his eyes and breathes in deeply “Yeah, yeah... So Monday, Sammy went to school, he was waiting for me to pick him up, and I was - I - I was late.” Dean clenched his jaw, struggling to speak. “Anyway, these 2 mountains of men got outta this small, crappy van... I mean these guys were massive... They were - I mean, I wouldn’t even be able to fight them... Sammy put up a bit of a fight, but they freakin’ drugged him, and then they threw him in the van and sped away.” Caleb looks at Dean as if he is studying him “What have you and John done since then?”

Dean mutters under his breath “not enough..” he sits up straighter and talks louder “... I drove around all last night looking for him... Dad arrived this morning, we went and sussed out the scene and found obvious signs of a struggle and Sammy's backpack was still there... We went to check out the police station and we got tapes of him being...  _ taken.. _ ”

Dean sighs and buries his head in his hands “And Dad is acting like he doesn’t even care... I mean, shouldn't he be like breaking down or at least show some emotion..? He has just been glued to whisky since we got home..”

Caleb stands up and walks over to Dean, he pats his shoulder and glances at Bobby.

 

\------------

 

Sam breathes deeply through the pain, whimpering every time oxygen fills his probably punctured lungs. He stares into the darkness, Brady left him a few minutes ago, maybe hours or even days. There is no concept of time in the concrete box. Coloured spots jump around Sam’s vision, streaks of green and blue flash in Sam’s vision. The pink and purple dots dance around in front of Sam, bouncing up and down in time with Sam’s slow breathing. 

Boulder unlocks the door and flings it open, exposing the room to the harsh, blinding light. Sam winces, his breaths are loud and hoarse, displaying an obvious struggle to intake the oxygen he needs. Sam’s head is heavy, the collar and chains, holding it upright, forcing his neck to stiffen. Since he was chained up Sam has been struggling to hold his head up with the chains, instead, letting it drop slightly, somewhat cutting off his airway by the unrelenting metal collar. 

Boulder laughs at the pathetic sight of Sam, he steps back and calls down the hallway “Can we just kill him already?” Brady's voice was muffled through the wall and probably Sam’s concussion  “Not yet.. Have a little... Fun... don’t hurt him too much.”

 

_ Not yet? Not yet... As in don’t kill me yet... Which means they are going to kill me. I can’t die, I need to apologise to Dean and Dad, I need to say sorry for crying and being so weak. I have already stuffed up enough, I can’t die. _

 

Sam was shocked that Boulder actually wanted to kill him, how messed up was this guy? He didn’t imagine ever getting out or escaping but that didn’t mean he thought he would die in here. Boulder grins at Sam’s shocked expression and steps forward. He pulls out his lighter, the same lighter he heated the knife up with last time. Sam panics, he can’t take another session of a burning blade digging into him. Boulder flicks the lighter on and stares at the flame in awe, his eyes wide and assessing the still flame... But there’s no knife. Sam hangs his head down again, a tear escaping his eye. Boulder crouches down next to Sam and brutally pulls his chin up so that the younger boy is looking at him in the eye. Boulder laughs as he strains Sam’s head up towards him and he flicks the lighter on again, inching it closer to Sam’s face. Sam feebly attempts to move backwards, whimpering as the heat gets closer to his face. Boulder moves the lighter to a strand of Sam’s unruly hair, lighting the tip of his long, brown hair on fire. Sam whines again, feeling the flame climb up his hair, getting closer to his face. Boulder blows out the flame just as it burns Sam’s scalp. Sam gags at Boulders breath, it smells of beer and smoke with a general hint of trash. The large man flicks the lighter on again, holding it close to Sam’s face, but not near enough to burn him. “This is for ruining last night... Ya know, it was good, and I was happy” he laughs madly as a representation of his mood, before continuing with a stern, threatening face “and then you, fucken dickhead, had to go and ruin it. Ruin it!” He stops and inhales deeply before proceeding with a wicked smile “but it’s okay, it’s okay... You are going to make it up to me right? Right?!” Boulder screams and holds Sams chin tighter, making him nod “great, great... Okay, it’s okay... You will make it up to me and we will all be okay... I mean not you, of course.” He laughs and then turns deadly serious, staring at Sam, he flicks the lighter on again and moves it to another strand of Sam's long hair, slowly creeping it closer until it lights. The flame crawls up to Sam’s head quickly causing Sam to whimper and yelp. The younger boy tries to squirm away from Boulders grasp as the fire burns Sam’s head, catching onto other locks of hair. Sam screams as all of his hair is consumed by the fire and Boulder laughs madly before patting the flame out, burning his own hand in the process. Sam yelps with the contact but sighs as the burning terminate’s, leaving a raw stinging skin covering the top of his head. 

 

_ My hair... The hair I was growing out... Dean wanted me to cut it, maybe he will be happy with this... This is good, it’s okay... Dean wanted this, and Dad would be happy with this as well. No hair getting in the way of hunts when I get out... If, I get out... _

 

Boulder moves to Sam’s arms hanging limply above the boys head. He flicks the lighter on again, admiring the flame before gliding it along Sams' forearm, leaving red blisters and burns scattering his arm. Sam whimpers as tears track down his cheeks “p-ple.. P-please... No m-more...” Sam stutters out and Boulder flicks the lighter closed and looks towards Sam’s wet face with wide eyes, he bursts out laughing and whoops once before moving on to Sam’s second arm. He slowly trails the flame across Sam’s arm, melting his skin, “That’s good Sam... You are braking, that’s good... I knew you were weak and that you would break soon enough.” He chuckles happily as he continues burning Sam’s arms. 

 

The edge of Sam’s vision blurs as black spots dance around, thickening every second the burning continues. Boulder’s voice is strained in his ears and is sounding thinner and quieter, gently disappearing as Sam’s eyes roll into his skull and his head slumps forward. 

 

He welcomes the unconsciousness.

 

\------------

 

Dean, Bobby and Caleb sit on the couches for a while, talking to Dean about Sam and John. Their conversation is interrupted by a knock at the door, Dean hesitantly stands up with Bobby on his flank and Caleb around the corner, all of them, gun in hand. Dean holds his gun up and breathes in deeply before opening the door. He immediately relaxes and pokes his head out the door, looking around the empty motel carpark and paths. 

No one is in sight. 

Deans walks out of the room to get a better look and Bobby steps out as well, he leans over to pick up a letter that had been on the doormat. They go back into the room, all of them quiet and staring at the white envelope sitting on the coffee table. Bobby brakes the silence “Caleb, go get John.” Caleb nods and swiftly stands up, walking down the corridor. He returns a few minutes later with John by his side, his hair is messy and Dean can smell the alcohol reeking of him from across the room. 

He is a disgrace. 

John stumbles as he walks, obviously still drunk. As soon as he sees the envelope it’s as if he immediately sobers up. He straightens up and looks as though he’s suddenly aware of everything around him. He picks up the envelope and glances at Dean “Where did you find this, boy?” Dean straightens up, his voice is quiet and hoarse “There was a knock on the door, I took to long to answer it and the guy was gone... The letter was on the floor... I’m sorry sir.” 

Bobby stands up “Sorry sir my ass... Ya did nothing wrong” He looks at Dean before turning to John “Now you, ya idjit, just open the goddamn letter!”

 

John fiddles with the letter before carefully and slowly opening it. Dean stands up and moves to stand next to John, watching the painfully slow letter opening. John pulls out the contents and assess it with emotionless eyes. Dean glances at the paper and stumbles backwards, he runs to this bathroom door and flicks the toilet lid open, falling to his knees while emptying his stomach into the porcelain bowl. John puts the contents of the letter on the coffee table, face up and sits down on the couch, scratching his whisky beard. Bobby picks up the piece of paper, taped in the middle of the paper is a small polaroid picture.

The picture Brady took of Sam.

Next to the picture is a message written in perfect handwriting...

 

_ I told you I would get my revenge... Now young Sammy is gonna pay your debt... See you soon! _

 

Caleb assesses the photo quickly and puts it back on the coffee table, the only sound that fills the room is Deans retching, echoing out of the bathroom. Dean re-joined them in the room, making sure to not glance at the photo again. “What the hell Dad?” 

John stays silent. 

“Idjit, ya better answer ya boy” Bobby’s voice is grave and angrier than Dean has ever heard.

John stands up and walks towards the window, staring outside. “Few years back, I was on a hunt... Kid’s being abducted, found dead with obvious signs of torture... It took me a while to find the warehouse, but I did... It was a bunch of demons, a whole group of ‘em. I trapped them and exercised ‘em. This demon.. Brady was last, he begged me not to exercise him but I did.. He promised me that he would get revenge when he got out. I didn’t listen.”

He turned around to face the shocked and angry angry Bobby, Caleb and Dean. There was no emotion in Johns voice or evident on his face. “Brady is crazy, he kept the same meatsuit from our last encounter so I would know it’s him, I -” He was cut off by Dean’s voice “Hold up... You knew it was this psycho freak since the police station.. And you didn’t say anything to me!?” Dean struggled to keep his voice from breaking.

“Yes. This is still a hunt Dean. You are letting your emotions cloud your judgement!” 

“Like hell I am! Dad...T -This isn’t just any hunt! This is Samy we’re talking ‘bout!” 

John shouts “and who was meant to be looking after Sammy? Huh? Who was meant to pick him up from school?” A tear escapes Deans eye and he quickly wipes his cheek, ashamed by the betrayal of his body. “I know! I know it’s my fault... but it’s your fault as well, so we gotta find him... Dad, we gotta find him.” Deans voice cracks and he sits down on the couch, staring at the floor.


End file.
